Read Online Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) by Veronica Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Veronica Scott
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need for consulting a sleeping girl. I wish I’d been partnered with their like!”
Nate saw no benefit in commenting on her assessment of people and events. Eventually, she’d get to the point.
Lolanta focused her attention on him again. Rising from the gaily colored hassock, she hooked her right hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “So, I must know—have you come to fulfill the prophecy?”
“Prophecy?”
“The legend states that one day her father will return for her, reunite with these people we’ve enslaved for many generations and lead them again. Are you here to prepare the way for his coming? To defeat Huitlani, to defeat us?” Lolanta’s voice became shrill at the mere idea. She tightened her grip on Nate’s chin. “Has Fr’taray sent you to carry out this destiny?”
“What does Sarbordon believe?”
“He vacillates.” She sounded disparaging of her high-ranking mate. The priestess released Nate to pace. “Until the day you were dragged in, he was sure his destiny called for freeing her, mating with her to spawn a new race of demigods and take on the powers of Fr’taray for himself by so doing. His reading of the old tablets led him to that conclusion. The rare, triple eclipse reinforced those beliefs. But now he worries. In the morning he convinces himself you’re from beyond the sky, a true warrior of her clan who must be reckoned with. At evening moonrise, he says you’re nothing more than a man who sweats and bleeds, who can be killed without reprisal or consideration.”
It was obvious to Nate that if Lolanta had been the decision maker, and if she’d known how to open the healing chamber, Bithia would have been sacrificed to Huitlani a long time ago, no questions asked. And he and his men would have met the same grim fate the day they arrived.
“T’naritza herself acknowledged us as her warriors,” Nate reminded Lolanta. His private, worst fears about what a thin thread kept him and his men alive had been confirmed by her casual recitation of the king’s dilemma.
Lolanta perched on the edge of the cushions on the chair across from his, restless, drumming her fingers on her thigh. “Either we wait for the outcome of the god’s game to tell us how to deal with you, or perhaps you and I can arrive at an understanding. Compare our knowledge of what Fr’taray and Huitlani desire to achieve from this confrontation, use the information to our mutual benefit sooner.”
“We must wait,” Nate said, trying to buy time.
The priestess came out of her chair and paced across the chamber to the birdcages and back. Eventually, she faced Nate. “Every day our sworn enemies, the Githholz, invade more of our territory. Your fourth man is one of their high-ranking chiefs—I’m fully aware of his status. But for his tattoo, he’d have been given to the beasts in the well or sacrificed on an altar weeks ago. Keeping him alive is dangerous, gives the enemy hope.” Her voice rose. “There’s no time to waste on this affair of a stupid game. But I can’t get my husband to see the urgency as I do.” She pointed at Nate with one talon. “If you’re proven mere mortal, or even if you are warriors from the sky, but Huitlani’s team triumphs in the game, then we’ve frittered away precious time. My foolish mate is risking our kingdom on a hope of attaining powers and weapons that may be no more than smoke.”
“What exactly do you want from me?”
She came closer. “Give me the secrets of Fr’taray. I’m sure my god would be lavish with rewards. I would certainly be most generous.”
“I can’t give you any secrets.” All Nate wanted was distance from her. The prison cell sounds damn fine as a place to be right now . “You’ll have to wait for the outcome of the game, just as your husband does. Send me to my cell. We’re done talking.”
The queen rocked on her heels, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “You dare to give me orders?”
“I don’t
Nate saw no benefit in commenting on her assessment of people and events. Eventually, she’d get to the point.
Lolanta focused her attention on him again. Rising from the gaily colored hassock, she hooked her right hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. “So, I must know—have you come to fulfill the prophecy?”
“Prophecy?”
“The legend states that one day her father will return for her, reunite with these people we’ve enslaved for many generations and lead them again. Are you here to prepare the way for his coming? To defeat Huitlani, to defeat us?” Lolanta’s voice became shrill at the mere idea. She tightened her grip on Nate’s chin. “Has Fr’taray sent you to carry out this destiny?”
“What does Sarbordon believe?”
“He vacillates.” She sounded disparaging of her high-ranking mate. The priestess released Nate to pace. “Until the day you were dragged in, he was sure his destiny called for freeing her, mating with her to spawn a new race of demigods and take on the powers of Fr’taray for himself by so doing. His reading of the old tablets led him to that conclusion. The rare, triple eclipse reinforced those beliefs. But now he worries. In the morning he convinces himself you’re from beyond the sky, a true warrior of her clan who must be reckoned with. At evening moonrise, he says you’re nothing more than a man who sweats and bleeds, who can be killed without reprisal or consideration.”
It was obvious to Nate that if Lolanta had been the decision maker, and if she’d known how to open the healing chamber, Bithia would have been sacrificed to Huitlani a long time ago, no questions asked. And he and his men would have met the same grim fate the day they arrived.
“T’naritza herself acknowledged us as her warriors,” Nate reminded Lolanta. His private, worst fears about what a thin thread kept him and his men alive had been confirmed by her casual recitation of the king’s dilemma.
Lolanta perched on the edge of the cushions on the chair across from his, restless, drumming her fingers on her thigh. “Either we wait for the outcome of the god’s game to tell us how to deal with you, or perhaps you and I can arrive at an understanding. Compare our knowledge of what Fr’taray and Huitlani desire to achieve from this confrontation, use the information to our mutual benefit sooner.”
“We must wait,” Nate said, trying to buy time.
The priestess came out of her chair and paced across the chamber to the birdcages and back. Eventually, she faced Nate. “Every day our sworn enemies, the Githholz, invade more of our territory. Your fourth man is one of their high-ranking chiefs—I’m fully aware of his status. But for his tattoo, he’d have been given to the beasts in the well or sacrificed on an altar weeks ago. Keeping him alive is dangerous, gives the enemy hope.” Her voice rose. “There’s no time to waste on this affair of a stupid game. But I can’t get my husband to see the urgency as I do.” She pointed at Nate with one talon. “If you’re proven mere mortal, or even if you are warriors from the sky, but Huitlani’s team triumphs in the game, then we’ve frittered away precious time. My foolish mate is risking our kingdom on a hope of attaining powers and weapons that may be no more than smoke.”
“What exactly do you want from me?”
She came closer. “Give me the secrets of Fr’taray. I’m sure my god would be lavish with rewards. I would certainly be most generous.”
“I can’t give you any secrets.” All Nate wanted was distance from her. The prison cell sounds damn fine as a place to be right now . “You’ll have to wait for the outcome of the game, just as your husband does. Send me to my cell. We’re done talking.”
The queen rocked on her heels, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “You dare to give me orders?”
“I don’t
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